


Alone (Not Anymore)

by The_Cards_Youre_Delta



Series: Extremely Self-Indulgent Redemption Arc [3]
Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Murdoc's dad sucks, Pining, Romance, Russ is a great dad, abusive childhood, confessions of love kinda, everyone is trying their best to make sure Noodle is happy, father/child relationships, hangovers, overly detailed breakfast making, plutonic love, they all love each other tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 03:28:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Cards_Youre_Delta/pseuds/The_Cards_Youre_Delta
Summary: The aftermath of the last night's confessions leaves both Murdoc and 2D uncertain where things are going next, with a bonus subplot of Russel and Noodle being adorable and great.





	Alone (Not Anymore)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the wait guys! I know I promised this would be here soon... two months ago. Whoops. Love y'all.

Murdoc awoke in a cold sweat with a sudden lurch forward. He clamped a hand over his mouth and was relieved when he only dry heaved instead of vomiting. Feeling the dull pounding of a headache hammering at the back of his skull he groaned. Even more relieved upon noting he was A) Still clothed, B) In his own bed, and C) Wasn't next to anyone, he took a half-assed shower (really just rinsing the sweat off himself) and strolled to the studio’s kitchen.

Murdoc’s brother never did much for him besides beating the living shit out of him on a daily basis, but he did teach him the best cure for a hangover: a greasy breakfast. And as the humiliation of last night’s events began to slowly trickle into his memory and he remembered making an emotional, drunken arse of himself in front of 2D, it seemed all the more reason to distract himself while he still could. Searching through the cluttered fridge for awhile he finally settled on some (barely) passable sausages and scrambled eggs, setting out to cook himself up a full English.

When he looked over, still crouched down by the fridge, the last thing he expected was to meet a pair of curious brown eyes.

“AaAggH!”

The bassist jumped back in surprise and crashed back first into the floor, throwing breakfast ingredients into the air in surprise. Noodle caught the eggs, luckily, and the pack of sausages landed on his chest with a dull _smack_.

Her childish face contorted in shock and she knelt next to him, setting the carton on the floor.“Murdoc-San? You ok? Did I hurt?” She asked, her guilty voice full of concern.

Murdoc clenched his eyes shut and nodded his head. He forced himself up to a sitting position. “ ‘S alright, poppet. Just startled me is all.” He groaned out. She looked unsure. “What the ‘ell are you doing up at this hour anyway, ain't everyone else asleep?”

Noodle pointed toward the living room TV set. “I watch cartoons.”

He almost felt bad, wondering if this was a daily occurrence. _How often is she all alone like this._ But he quickly shook it off. She was a quiet kid- they liked having space.

“D’you want breakfast?” She grinned happily and climbed up on the counter to get to something in the cupboard. Murdoc staggered to standing, puzzled and still gripping the pack of sausages. Noodle finally found her prize- a box of Bisquick. He almost didn't recognize it, they didn't have it in the UK, but Russ liked to buy it online so he could make-

“Pancakes!”The little girl grinned.

“No no. I'm making eggs and sausages, kid. We aren't having any-”

“Pancakes.” She said again, forcefully shoving the box into his hands.

He opened his mouth to protest but was met with fierce little eyes locked with his in determination.

“Ok, ok! fine.” She smiled and hopped off the counter, hugging his leg. He pried her off and grumbled. “Ugh just… go watch tv. Can't have you getting in my way when I'm cookin’.”

He set to work making breakfast. Grabbing milk from the fridge, he drank half a bottle of blue liquid with the label torn off- Murdoc really hoped it was Gatorade- and mixed the batter, more or less following instructions. It turned out oddly lumpy; _that doesn't look right_ , he thought, but he shrugged to himself and poured some in the pan anyway. _I doubt the little brat will notice._ While the pancakes were cooking, the bassist turned to making his own breakfast, placing bacon and sausages in one pan to fry, then cracking two eggs in it to cook in the oil. He moved them to a plate to cool then put tomato slices in a new pan to fry with some butter, meanwhile stirring a small pan of baked beans and putting on some toast. Say what you want about Murdoc- people always did anyway, regardless of getting permission - but he could make a mean Full English.

After a few minutes the pancakes were (probably) done, and he headed over to the kitchen table with plates for him and Noodle. The table was covered in stacks upon stacks of notebooks filled with unfinished lyrics, several small animals Russell seemed to be stuffing, empty bottles and abandoned plates. Murdoc shoved them to the floor and plunked down the food.

Noodle rushed up to the table, peering at the pancakes for a split second before rushing into the kitchen and returning with maple syrup. The bassist tucked into his bacon as he watched her pour an ungodly amount of syrup on her food. He let her carry on with this for a while (Murdoc wasn't her sodding father, and he wasn't looking after her diet, Russel or Faceache could handle it) until it began to spill over onto the table, at which point he reached his hand over and wordlessly took the bottle from her hands.

They stubbornly locked eyes for a moment before he raised an eyebrow in challenge and Noodle looked down and kept eating with an annoyed huff. Murdoc snickered to himself and took a long sip of his coffee, smiling as he noticed her swinging her legs under the table. They ate together in companionable silence for a while, neither being much for conversation, especially this early in the morning. Though he would never admit it, he rather liked the young girl’s company. Soon enough, the quiet was broken by Noodle’s gentle voice.

“Murdoc-San?”

“Yes?”

“Does everyone have Mother and Father?”

He took a moment to figure out what he meant before answering. “Well, usually yeah. Y’ don’ always know them though… and sometimes they ain't around.”

She thought about this for a second and replied with a follow up question. “Where is my Mother?”

Murdoc remembered when he was young and realized he was missing a parent.

_“Dad? Where'd my mummy go?”_

_His father set down the bottle of whatever high alcohol content swill he was drinking and glared._ _“I dunno. She ditched me with you a few weeks after you was born when she realized what a worthless little shite you were.” He smiled, like it was some hilarious joke._

_Murdoc had only just started to cry- tears welling up in his eyes and mouth open, breathing in shakily- before he was knocked to the ground with a smack to the back of his head._

_“Quit that! I'll have no son of mine blubbering like some kind of pansy!”_

_Murdoc clamped a hand to his mouth to keep the sobs from coming but it was no use. He knew what was coming next, he just covered his head and looked at the ground while he waited for the inevitable._

_“Oh, you wanna cry, I'll give you something to cry about-” the words were emphasized by the “Zip!” of his father’s leather belt being pulled from its loops._

The memory left him feeling nauseous and upset. He looked over at Noodle, her young face open and trusting as she awaited his answer. He took another gulp of his coffee and gingerly set the mug down before answering.

“Well… it doesn't matter. Y’got Russ, don’cha? ‘S close enough.”

She tilted her head. “Russel-Chan is my mother?”

Murdoc snorted and let out a hearty laugh. “Yer a riot, Noods.”

Noodle just smiled, still not quite understanding.

He abruptly sat up straight and snapped his eyes toward the stairs as he heard the unmistakable creak of someone coming down. Noodle watched him with silent curiosity and as Murdoc listened carefully to the sound of the steps- heavy, and certain, with long strides- he realized who it was and visibly relaxed, letting his shoulders fall with a sigh.

Russel emerged from the stairwell still in his pajamas, red pajama pants and an oversized jersey from some American basketball team Murdoc didn't recognize. He seemed surprised to see Murdoc in the studios this early. The bassist nodded a greeting to him and grumbled out an explanation to the inquisitive look on his friend’s (if you could really consider Russel and Murdoc friends at all) face.

“Wanted breakfast. There's more if yew want some.”

The drummer seemed satisfied with this, not being one to scoff at a fresh made breakfast and moved to the kitchen with a yawned out “Thanks”.

He raised his thick eyebrows a tick when he noticed Noodle’s plate of pancakes and looked at Muds, asking “You make these?”

The satanist rolled his eyes, feeling a strange mix of pride and indignation at the surprised admiration in the man’s voice. “No, the sodding cockroaches did. What do yew think?”

The drummer diplomatically chose to ignore that. “Thanks for making her breakfast, Muds. Normally D does it if I'm not awake early enough.”

Murdoc just grunted in response as Russel pushed some clutter toward the center of the table so he would have space to set his plate down. Noodle grabbed a pad of paper and some pencils from the mess and began to draw while she ate. He looked at the bassist with a calm intensity, as if he were searching the exterior of a house for chips in it's paint.

“Yeeesss?” He bit out.

Russel shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “Nothin’, Muds.”

He looked over at Noodle, crunching his eyebrows together as he looked at her plate. “You got enough syrup there, Baby Girl?”

She grinned and stuffed a syrup-saturated fork full into her mouth. “I have enough.”

Murdoc snorted and the other man shook his head with mild amusement. The tense atmosphere dissipated and they ate with few words, neither man wanting to destroy the rare peace between them with the petty arguments that arose whenever they spoke to each other without another person as a buffer. The companionable silence seemed like it would last forever. Until 2D arrived.

Murdoc visibly tensed as he heard jaunty steps creak down the stairs and seemed to get more nervous as they got closer while 2D did… whatever the hell he did this early in the morning, around the adjacent rooms. Russel watched him with a puzzled expression on his face.

“What's up with you?”

“N-nothing I just thou-thought I heard something.”

“Yeah. It's just D, he musta just woke up.”

“I know that, I meant I thought heard something else. ‘S probably nothin’.” The bassist snapped back, pointedly looking at his plate instead of the drummer as he stabbed a sausage with his fork.

Russel, for what felt to him like the thousandth time that morning, ignored his bandmate’s little outburst, instead thinking of him and 2D’s excursion the other day- maybe that was the source of his strange mood swings. It was normal for Muds to be in a shitty mood, and he had his good moments too, but not usually in such quick succession, and normally not without a clear catalyst.

“I…” He contemplated whether or not he should bring it up. “I heard about your dad. ‘M sorry, Muds. That's real hard- losing family like that. Even if y'all ain't close.”

Murdoc scowled as he swallowed a bite of eggs. “He's not dead yet. Not that I give a fuck either way”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment before he spoke again; Noodle either not noticing or not caring, continued to color in the tropical fish she had drawn in between bites of pancake.

“Thanks, Russ.”

Russel smiled and took a sip of his coffee.  Just then 2D walked in. The sight of him made Murdoc’s stomach turn with the uncomfortable shame he felt whenever he had been vulnerable around someone. The singer looked unacceptably nice for having just woken up, in a baggy tank top and linen checkered pajama pants, his hair slightly mussed and a few locks of it crisscrossing on his forehead into his eyes. He let his gaze rest on Murdoc for a while, emotions shifting on his face from surprise to awkwardness to confusion, finally stopping on a sunny smile.

“Morning! Didn't ‘xpect you'd be up so early.”

“I uh- yeah. I was hungry. Went in to get breakfast. There's plenty if yew…” he cursed himself for being so uncharacteristically inarticulate.

“Fanks, but I don't eat meat.” 2D went to fix himself some coffee instead.

“Oh! Y-yeah o’course. I knew that- Well… the-there's pancakes too. Uh, the batter at least. Should be enough for a few more.”

“That sounds great.” He went towards the stove, only making it a few steps before Murdoc shot up.

“No, I'll do it- I mean, can't have yew burning the studio down, can we, faceache?” The singer cracked a grin at this and was pushed away. “Jus’ stay out o’ my way, alright? It'll jus’ be a minute.”

“Alright, Muds.” He said, fixing himself some coffee- if you could still call it coffee with the amount of cream he poured in- and taking a seat by Russel, turning to start a conversation with him. Meanwhile Murdoc poured batter into a pan, adding chocolate chips to the mix after some deliberation, and listened in while trying to look casual.

“What’re you going to do t’day, Russ?”

“Not sure. There's this museum exhibit a few towns over with a ton of old Egyptian stuff Noodle wanted to go to, but I gotta do some laundry so that might have to wait until another time.” Noodle let out a disappointed huff at this.

“I could do it if y’like. The laundry, I mean.”

Russel snorted. “That's real sweet, D, but remember what happened last time?”

Stuart huffed in indignation. “Okay, that was one time! I swear I can do it!”

Murdoc turned towards them from his position at the stove, leaning on a countertop with a spatula in his hand.

“What'd he do?”

Russel looked pointedly at 2D. “Why don't you tell him, ‘cause I still have no idea how you managed it.”

Stuart mumbled under his breath.

“Yer gonna have to say that again, Tusspot.”

“I said: I burnt the laundry.” He repeated, forcefully this time.

Murdoc raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to ask several follow up questions when 2D continued with a scowl that looked out of place on him, insisting “But it was only cos’ that dryer was crap. I know it wasn't my fault.”

“Tell that to the charred remains of my favorite shirt.” Russel shot back, grinning.Murdoc caught a whiff of smoke and whipped around to flip the now (slightly) burnt pancakes.

Noodle stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “So… We can not go to the museum, Russel-Chan?”

“I…” The drummer looked into her pleading face. “Yeah. Alright, alright. D, you can do the laundry, but you’re staying away from the dryer and putting the clean clothes out on the clothesline instead, got it?”

2D nodded, smile growing even brighter as Murdoc unceremoniously dropped his plate in front of him, then sat down next to him to finish his coffee. Russel looked at them with a strange expression, it was unusual for the two to get along so well, let alone in the morning. His attention was diverted, however, by two small hands tugging at his arm. He turned towards Noodle.

“So we can go see mummies?” She asked excitedly.

He smiled. “Yeah, but go get dressed first a’ight?”

She nodded rapidly and raced up the stairs. The drummer sighed and called after her, cupping his hands over his mouth to amplify the sound. “AND DON'T FORGET TO BRUSH YOUR TEETH.”

“YES MOTHER” The little girl shouted back from the top of the stairs.

Russel’s face contorted in confusion and 2D snorted a laugh through his mouthful of pancakes, spraying out a few crumbs. Murdoc hid his smirk in his coffee mug.

*****

Hours later, the others had left, leaving Murdoc to return to the peace, solitude, and mild filth of his Winnebago, until loud knocking disturbed it. He got up from the oddly comfortable position he'd been in- slouching with his lower back on the red leather passenger’s seat and his legs propped up on the driver's seat, absent-mindedly flipping through the autobiography of Aleister Crowley (a book he had really only bought for show, but started reading it late one night and was now sucked into).

Murdoc’s spine cracked uncomfortably as he stretched and he groaned, making his way to the door. Upon opening it he was surprised to be met with his singer, balancing a half empty laundry basket against his hip with one hand, the other still stretched out to knock.

“Yes? What is it?” His voice came out harsher than intended and he inwardly winced at the way Stu’s face fell.

“Um. Hi. I was wondering if you-if you had any laundry you wanted to throw in, on-on account of-” He stuttered nervously. “Uh… ‘m not sure. ‘S probably a couple of things on the floor.” He turned his head to search the messy space, noting many articles of clothing which had likely been lying on the ground dirty for some time.

2D seemed to notice and grinned, setting the bin on the Winnebago steps and turning to leave. “I'll get anotha basket, yeah?” He said with a laugh, turning back toward Kong.

The bassist grabbed it and went back inside, leaving the door open for when Stu returned. He shoved what clothes he could fit in the basket and set the rest in a massive black and gray pile, dotted here and there with dark blue or red. He smiled at the sight his unvaried, rancid wardrobe heaped on the floor.

2D came back several minutes later, carrying not one, but two more baskets for the rest of the laundry. He smiled as he walked inside and saw the mess, holding up the baskets. “I ‘ad a feelin’ you’d need more than one.”

Murdoc grinned, shoving clothing into the hampers with 2D’s help. “Guess I musta fallen behind on my laundry a few months ago.”

Stu laughed and went to pick all of them up, only to be cut off by the bassist who grabbed two for himself.

“huh?”

“C’mon, Tusspot. Yer skinny as a nail, yew can’t carry all three of these without dropping ‘em. Let’s go.”

2D smiled in slight disbelief. “Y-you’re comin’ with me?”

Murdoc was already in the car park, strides ahead of the singer who jogged ahead to catch up. “O’course. Can’t do all this by yourself.”

“Guess you're right.” Stuart said as he finally reached the bassist’s side, panting a little.

They walked together to the laundry room, Murdoc following the taller man’s lead as he flicked on the lights over the basement steps and walked downward, chattering absentmindedly. “Well, gotta admit I'm glad you came… b’cause ‘S pretty creepy down here an’ I hate goin’ by m’self.”

“Ain't your room down in the basement too, dullard?” He asked as he plotted down the steps.

“Well yeah, but ‘S a different part of the basement- not as far down. An’ I'm used to it over there by now, Y’know?”

Murdoc nodded. Then, feeling stupid as he realized the singer couldn't see him, awkwardly replied “yeah…guess so”

After a while the unease and awkwardness grew between the pair as they worked side-by-side, not even glancing at each other in the cramped laundry room. The bassist talked Stu into using the dryer rather than make the long trek upstairs and using the clothesline, insisting that as long as he was the one that picked the settings on the dryer rather than the singer, everything would be fine.

They stood next to each other, folding and sorting clothes into separate baskets based on who they belonged to, quiet except for the chugging of the dryer and the staticky sounds from the portable radio perched up on a wooden shelf over the washing machine tuned to an eighties rock station. The slight white noise would have eased Murdoc’s headache if he wasn't worsening it every second by thinking too hard about how Stu wouldn't look directly at him- irrational thoughts speeding by a mile a minute. He kept his head down and continued folding, punctuating each thought by setting down an item, perhaps louder than he was aware of.

 _You fucked everything up._ Thunk

 _You idiot._ Thunk

 _Made an emotional fucking mess right in front of him._ Thunk.

And now he can't even look at you. Thunk.

You're an embarrassment. Thunk. 

_You’re like a sodding teenage girl._ Thunk.

 _You just HAD to tell him alllllllllll about your daddy issues, didn’t you?_ Thunk!

 _Really in rare form last night, huh?_ Thunk! 

_UnbeFUCKINGlievable!_   **THUNK!**

“Murdoc?”

The bassist jumped back from the working table as if from electric shock. “...You alright?”

He could feel 2D’s gaze on him, it made his skin crawl. “Yeah, yeah… just caught up in my thoughts ‘s all.” He refused to look over as he spoke to the keyboardist, opting instead to pretend to focus on straightening the crumpled shirt clutched in his hands.

“Uh… are you finkin’ about what we talked about the otha’ day?” The other asked timidly.

Murdoc kept his eyes fixed downward and nodded.

2D was silent for a while. “It’s okay y’know… I mean-you were drunk, obviously you din’ mean it. I-We, we can forget all abou’ it if y’want.”

That got his attention, he turned and faced the other. “Do you want t’ forget it?”

He seemed to mull the question over before answering, considering the consequences before flicking his eyes toward his shoes and giving a simple “No. I don’t wanna forget any of it.”

“I meant it. I mean… i’d rather have said it with a bit more uh. Eloquence, but the general message was still there I thought.” He almost cringed at how uncertain he sounded, but it was worth it when he saw the look of pure joy on Stuart’s face.

Before he could say or do anything more, two bony but firm hands gripped him by his upper arms and pulled him toward the other. They knocked foreheads but he hardly noticed as his lips were captured in the first sober kiss he’d had in years. It was amazing how much more he could feel and sense- the contrast between the chapped texture of 2D’s outer lip and the silky smooth moisture of his inner lip, the faint sweetness of maple syrup on his tongue, the way he let out a whimpering sigh as Murdoc slipped his fingers through his hair and pulled it gently, how he gave the sweetest little chuckle as he pulled away, slumping to rest his head on his shoulder.

“Y’know we’ll have to tell people abou' us eventually if this lasts.” He murmured into the bassist’s neck.

“Good.”

“R-really?” He lifted his head up to look Murdoc in the eyes.

“Well, I wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to brag about pulling something this pretty.” He replied, giving Stu’s arse a little squeeze while he had the chance. The singer squeaked and jumped backward, smacking him on the shoulder and rolling his eyes.

*****

Murdoc didn’t expect a second knock on his Winnebago door in one day, though he was less surprised to see 2D this time.

“Hey.”

“Hi” The singer (his singer) replied.

“Uh, Russel and I made dinner. We- uh, really just me actually, wanted to see if you wanted to come down and eat with the band, b’cause you made breakfast for everyone and everyfing.”

“Yeah alright, s’pose I can bless you all with my presence for an evening.” Murdoc joked, lacing his fingers with 2D’s for the walk inside.

They let go as they were about to reach the kitchen, Murdoc sitting down at the table that had been miraculously cleared and maybe even cleaned since that morning, Stu going to set the table. Noodle was drawing in a brand new sketchbook with some new markers that Russ had bought her at the museum gift shop and turned to the bassist with a huge smile.

“Murdoc-San! Guess what I saw today!”

“Hmmm…” He exaggeratedly mimed thinking hard before answering. “Dusty old Egyptian corpses?”

She giggled and shook her head before returning to her artwork. “No! Silly Murdoc. I saw MUMMIES.”

He scoffed. “Same thing. Hey, Noods?”

“Yes?”

“Can I see what yer drawin’?”

She kept coloring, not sparing Murdoc a glance and replied. “No.”

“But-”

“Noooo Murdoc-san.” She sing-songed. “It is not finished yet.”

“And it won’t be for a while” Russel cut in, bringing in a serving plate of the stirfry he and 2D had made. “C’mon, you know the rules: no video games, toys, or drawing during group dinner.”

It was surprising to Murdoc how well eating with the group went, sure it wasn’t free of tense moments or awkward silences, but it was unexpectedly civil. He had forgotten that before the band really made it big, Russ had only stayed because he and Muds clicked musically. When they had all first gotten together, they had found each other a lot less grating and on more than one occasions had spent hours talking about the rise of rock n’ roll and hip hop, lamenting the forgotten artists that hadn’t gotten the credit they deserved and bitching about overrated ones that hadn’t earned their legacy. 2D was great and all, but he wasn't really the sort to debate the complexities of Chuck Berry’s career.

Russel and Murdoc had forgotten the respect they had for the other as intellectuals and were happy to begin to regain it, and Noodle and 2D enjoyed the rare peace between them. They were finally able to talk like semi-civilized people again.

“So, what do you think about this whole ‘school’ idea, Noods?” Russel asked “Might be a good idea, right? You’ll get to make new friends- won’t be alone all the time.”

Noodle cocked her head. “What do you mean? I am not alone” She gestured around the full table around her. All three men smiled, touched by the girl’s words despite the nonchalance she had spoken them with, perhaps taking a bit more meaning from it than she had intended. But they couldn’t help it, it felt like an epiphany: none of them were alone anymore.


End file.
